Trouble
by Clara 1996
Summary: The Doctor knows Clara's different, and he wants to find out what. Contains mentioning of self-harm.


**Okay, I'm back! I was so devastated by the exit of Miss Clara Oswald so I've written a few little shots of what I imagine life was like for her and 12 between Last Christmas and The Magician's Apprentice.**

 **As this mentions self-harm I was slightly nervous about posting, but I think it's a growing problem and needs to be reflected in modern day fics so as to help people.**

 **Tell me what you think,**

 **Clara :-)**

He really did not understand it. Christmas had been five weeks ago and Clara really did seem back to her old self. They'd only had that adventure after his regeneration before she had become distracted; checking her phone more and mentioning a certain man from work. Then said man and Clara had begun a relationship, then man had died. Clara had turned mope-y. But now Clara seemed to have gotten her feistiness back. There was something, though, something about her eyes. If you looked closely you could see that she had suffered. A problem Clara did have was that the Doctor hadn't forgotten how good at lying she'd become. Lying to him, lying to Danny, probably her friends, family and anyone who knew her. So whilst she said and did all of the right things someone recovering would do, she was just that bit too breezy. And the Doctor was determined to source out the reason.

In all the time since Christmas, the pair had only left the TARDIS to go on little outings to planets Clara (and occasionally the Doctor too) had never heard of! He wanted to give her as much recovery time as she needed without upsetting her usual schedule. After all, he knew better than to mess with Clara's routine. In their time together he had noticed one or two things different about Clara. For one, she'd spent a lot of time in the laundry room with her towels and bedsheets. At the time he'd found it amusing, asked if she'd developed OCD, that kind of thing. But now that he reflected on it he could see the panic in her eyes. Rabbit caught in the headlights.

The next week she had insisted that she cooked them some meals. Whilst he knew she wasn't a five star chef, he also knew that it did not take an hour for anyone to make an omelette.

DWDWDW

They'd just been to another planet they'd never seen before, apparently it was nicknamed the fragrance planet and Clara said she could tell why as they made their journey back inside the TARDIS.

"I'll have to go and change. Seriously, if I wanted this to smell of bananas I'd have asked if we could go to the Caribbean!" She laughed to herself as she walked off, leaving him alone in the console room. Alone to gather all his thoughts, in the nice peace and qu-

THAT BLOODY PHONE!

Sometime between Danny's death and Christmas, Clara had gotten herself an iPhone. And one thing he hated about iPhones was their very distinctive alarms. He stood up angrily and marched over to where the offending item was resting innocently on the side table.

"Shut up!" He told it as he tapped the screen. Although it was Clara's phone and she was entitled to her own privacy, he couldn't help but read what it said:

TIME TO TAKE CODEINE.

Eh? Since when had Clara been on codeine? Infact, she'd been here for four and a half weeks, she should be well off any tablets she might have been taking to begin with. He could ignore it, wait for her to come out and see if she brought the subject up in the way she always did, laugh because it was funny. Yet the way she'd been acting recently led him to believe she would not simply brush this off as a mistake. The best way to get the truth was the direct approach.

Clara's door was slightly ajar, giving him the confidence to walk straight in. After all, if she really did want privacy she'd have shut it. Clara had her back to the door and was facing the wall next to the small bookshelf recently added to her bedroom. Her head was resting on the wall and she still seemed to be wearing the same grey jumper she had been earlier.

"Clara?" He asked. The woman seemed to jump ten feet in the air but didn't turn around.

"Doctor I said I was going to change! Maybe Time Lords have never heard of privacy but to us humans its-"

"Your alarm went off, said you need to take something." She turned her head fearfully and for once he realised how scared she looked. He continued anyway;

"It said codeine. I thought that was something you needed a prescription for on Earth in your time but you know, maybe I misread it." It was rhetorical really, he knew exactly how she'd have gotten it.

"I-er- came off the bike a few days before Christmas, they gave me codeine as a painkiller." He frowned.

"Just a little thing, though. I thought that you shouldn't take it for more than a week. And you've been here for more than four weeks. So…" He left it open for her to answer. Clara pulled her sleeves down from where she rolled them up to her elbows then faced him fully.

"I haven't taken it _every_ day," She emphasised "I take it five times a week. Well, ten in total, twice a day. But I skip weekends." His head was spinning.

"Clara, where did you get it? The chemist wouldn't give you tablets to last this long." She looked down guiltily and he already knew what her answer would be.

"I took it from your medical rooms. The local chemist gave me two boxes. Put on enough pain they'll do anything." The Doctor put his left hand underneath his chin whilst the right pointed at her slightly, not too accusingly.

"What's your plan exactly, Clara? Are you actually planning to overdose yourself to an early grave?" She glared at him.

"It makes me forget the pain; they knock you out, those drugs. I don't plan to die though; it's just a little escape." She offered him a small smile, he didn't smile back. Clara moved forwards to get her phone but he moved it above his head, well out of her reach.

"Where are they?" She rose her eyebrows.

"Who?"

"The codeine, where've you hidden it?" Without saying anything he saw her begging him to stop. Change the subject. That wasn't something he was going to do, he needed his Clara alive and well, not stuck in hospital whilst they pumped heaven knows what out of her.

"Now, Clara. Then you can have the phone." It was like bargaining with a teenager. He could see her internal struggle. She didn't want to give the tablets up. Time to crank it up a notch. Taking the sonic from his inside pocket – it really did spoil the lining – he held it up next to the phone.

"I can remove all the data, if that'll speed you up." She chuckled.

"It's all saved to the cloud, so go ahead!" He dropped his arm with the screwdriver down.

"After how we met, you go and save stuff to some cloud device? Clouds come and go, Clara!" He realised what she'd just successfully done, right under his nose!

"Don't change the subject! Codeine, now!" His voice was getting louder but she didn't move. She seemed to find this amusing. Right, he could do so much worse.

"Fine, come with me." He didn't wait for a response but roughly grabbed her right arm and pulled her out of the room and along the corridor. She didn't say a word, not even when they reached the waste deck.

"How much does the phone mean to you exactly?" He asked, holding it above the chute. She went to grab it.

"Don't! Doctor stop it," It was the first thing she'd said since their walk began "It was Danny's phone." Ah, she planned to guilt trip him.

"Then get the tablets. It's not rocket science, Clara." A pause.

"Okay." He nearly did a double take. A second ago she was kicking and screaming, next she willingly gave in. Slipping the phone into his pocket he followed Clara back to her bedroom. She walked hesitantly over to where there was a little gap between the mattress and headboard. As she pulled out four white boxes and then two silver foil packets also stashed away, he walked over to the bookshelf. He'd be able to see if she tried to keep any hidden under there. That's when something else caught his eye. One of his kitchen knives. A small one used for cutting meats and that kind of thing. It was stained slightly red, and whilst Clara had been cooking, it hadn't been anything with meat, or related to meat. Without saying anything he strode over to where Clara was straightening up and grabbed her right arm. Yanking up her sleeve he was relieved and confused to see clear, unmarked skin.

"Yes, Doctor, it's my arm." She said through gritted teeth. Of course, she was right handed. He moved to her left arm but she put her hand on the sleeve.

"Don't." He ignored her, and gently prized her hand away. Pulling up her sleeve; 20 to 30 small cuts littered her arm, some slightly pink and fading, others fresh and red. He kept her arm in his hands.

"Why? Why would you do this to yourself?" She blinked a few times. The composure she'd built up these last few weeks seemed to be crumbling.

"It started when I was upset. I missed Danny, and my mum. I didn't think, I just cut. It'll just hit me, out of the blue when I realise I can't speak to them anymore. I can't stop, Doctor, it helps." He closed his eyes. She'd been so happy.

"Helps?" He whispered. "It's short relief. You do it impulsively, then again the next time. You think you'll be okay because you never go too far. But one time you will; and I might not be there to fix you in time. You know what that means, Clara? When me, or your gran, or whoever, goes to check because you've been very quiet for a while – they'll find you wherever you where (kitchen, bathroom, whatever) dead."

"I won't Doctor," She protested. She was scared, good, that's what he wanted. "I don't cut deeply-"

"Clara you won't mean to!" He hadn't meant to scream at her, now she was crying, silently. Definitely not his Clara. He tried to be gentler.

"What will happen, hey? Maybe your hand slips, or something. More blood than you intended. You panic, try to find your phone, but it's out of charge. Then what? Has your life really become this worthless?" He let go of her arm but pocketed the tablets.

"I'm taking the knife," She nodded, she'd probably already guessed that, "And your scissors, and tweezers, and god knows what else you could use."

"Why?" She asked as he began rummaging through her room. He wouldn't be surprised to see nuclear weapons in there anymore. He sighed as he pulled razor blades out of their packets.

"Because I care, Clara. It might seem like I don't but I do. I don't want to see you hurt, Clara. Maybe I'm being too harsh, but it's become an addiction. I need to remove ALL temptation. You're forgetting I've lost people I loved as well." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Just talk to me, Clara. I can help." He left her to her own devices that night. DVDs and a chocolate and orange soufflé – he could access the best French bakers, place his order and return in two minutes after all. He knew it was going to be tricky, but he had to do something. They needed each other – the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS, as it should be.


End file.
